Isn’t it supposed to be gods who can strike people down with lightning?
Haden, a god? That is even more preposterous!
I do a search in the mythology book for all the references of Hades. More in an attempt to put my mind at ease than to prove this line of thinking correct.
Haden already has two strikes against him as far as this Hades theory goes. First, he’d already admitted to being part Greek. And second, there is the name thing. Haden is only one letter off from Hades. But that feels a little too on the nose.
I scan the first page that references Hades, but it is merely a genealogy chart of all the gods. I go to the second reference and find a physical description of the god.
Hades, god of the underworld and brother to Zeus, is usually depicted as being extremely tall, standing at least seven feet in height …
Haden is tall. At least six feet four. But being tall doesn’t make someone a supernatural being. I mean, look at me.
… with a muscular build.
Another check mark for Haden. It had been a little hard to ignore his muscular build when being held in his arms.…
Hades is most often depicted as having a dark beard, and pale skin from spending most of his time in the underworld.
Haden doesn’t have a beard, but his hair is definitely dark and his skin is pretty pale for someone with an olive complexion—almost like he doesn’t get out in the sun much.
Physical objects attributed to Hades are a chariot pulled by four fearsome black stallions …
Haden has a black car, but that is hardly the same as having a chariot and horses.
… a bident, the Key of Hades, and a three-headed dog named Cerberus.
Ha. There. Haden doesn’t have any of those things. And he has the world’s smallest cat, not the giant, snarling, three-headed dog that is pictured in my book.
Hades’s most impressive possession is the Helm of Hades, a special helmet or cap that can turn the wearer invisible.…
This one strikes a strange chord inside me. I’ve never seen Haden with a hat, but I remember the way he seemed to materialize out of the shadows the first time I met him in the grove. And then there’s what happened when I was backstage at the auditions. I’d been completely alone, and yet it had felt like someone had been back there with me … some invisible presence.
I scan the rest of the pages with references to Hades. I reread the story of Hades’s abduction of Persephone and can’t help ruminating on Tobin’s theory about those girls—his own sister included—who have gone missing whenever Lord family members happened to be in town.
But there’s nothing in the book that says anything about Hades having the ability to produce and throw lightning. The only Greek god with that power is supposed to be Zeus.
I laugh derisively at myself. This is insane! Maybe there really was some sort of poison—or psychotropic drug—in those cookies Lexie gave me. My laugh takes on a harder edge, almost a sob, and I know that I am on the verge of a full-scale freak-out.
Tobin is right. I’d allowed my judgment to get clouded, just like he’d said. I’d let Haden in. I’d kissed him.
I’d almost fallen for him.
I may not know what Haden is, but something is definitely wrong in Olympus Hills, and I have no doubt now that Haden and his family are at the center of it all.
Which means that now I am, too.
Chapter forty-five
HADEN
I enter the house through the garage. Simon’s car is gone, but Dax’s Roadster is here. I slam the door so hard, the windows shake. Dax is sitting in front of the TV in the family room. He sits up when he sees me come in. Concern mars his face. Laughter echoes from the television. I grab the remote and fling it against the wall. The screen of the TV goes black.
He shoots up from the couch. “Haden?”
“Where the Tartarus were you tonight?”
“Out.”
“Out? That’s all. That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened,” I hiss at him. “And it’s your fault. If you’d been here to patrol the festival for the Keres like I’d asked, then none of this would have happened!” I try to push him. Hard. But he grabs my shoulders. Dax has always been stronger than me.
“What happened?” he asks.
“It’s all ruined. All of it. It’s over. She’s never going to trust me again. She’s probably never even going to look at me again.”
Dax lets go of my shoulders. He has the audacity to look upset. Joe wouldn’t have been attacked if Dax had been there. I wouldn’t have had to expose my powers in front of Daphne.
I take a swing at him. It’s an impulsive move, and I think I’ve caught him off guard for once, but he grabs my fist midair. He uses it to force me into one of the armchairs. “Sit down. Shut up. And tell me what exactly the Tartarus happened!”
Dax doesn’t raise his voice often, but when he does, it has the same effect as a punch to the jaw. Reason returns to me, and I realize there’s no one to blame for what happened tonight. Not Dax, not Daphne, not Joe, and not even myself.
I had made the prideful mistake of thinking I had any control over any of this. What had happened had happened. No matter how I disliked it, it was what fate had wanted.
“What I don’t get is why would fate choose me for this quest, and then rip away my chances for success right when everything was starting to come together?”
“Maybe you’re supposed to go down a different path,” Dax says. “Maybe because you’re supposed to make your own fate.”
I glare at him. “That’s blasphemy.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Does anyone really know?”
“You’re addled.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “She kissed me.”
“Nice,” Dax says. “How is that a bad thing?”
“It’s what happened afterward.…” I launch into the story of Joe being attacked by the Keres and how I killed it.
“You killed it?” he asks, interrupting me. “You killed a Keres? Are you sure?”
“It exploded into a thousand little pieces. I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”
“How?”
“I don’t really know. It’s like it had a reaction to Daphne’s voice or something. It became solid just long enough for me to blast it.”